“HEY DAD! I got to touch a DINOSAUR bone today!”
He excitedly tells me all about it during our 20 minute call.
He hops off and Miranda’s face fills the screen. Sometimes it takes my breath away to see how much Luke resembles her.
“Hey, E. Still getting along out there?”
She still has a soft spot for me I think. We’ve remained friends through the divorce and has bizarre as it is, we still connect as friends. I think our shared child, Luke, has everything to do with it. The other part is she is now happier with her new husband than she ever was with me.
“Yea... All is good.”
She smiles at me, “Any time frame on your retirement plans?”
We had talked last time about how after this deployment I am retiring and moving back to the states. This is my last tour of duty. At thirty five I am tired, ready for the next thing. Time with Luke. Maybe find a woman to settle down with. Unbidden an image of Ryan pops into my brain.
“By that smile, I’d say retirement plans are in full swing.”
I didn’t realize I’d made any smile.
“Yea, Miranda. Paperwork is in process. This is my last tour of duty.”
“I’m so glad. Nobody deserves more happiness then you, Eric.”
“Can you do me a favor, Miranda?”
“Of course.”
“Can you begin looking at properties there in Pensacola? I want to be close to Luke and you.”
Her smile is soft and fills the screen.
“Of course! Luke’ll be so happy. What did you have in mind? A condo? House?”
I clear my throat. “House, I think.”
“You’ll be so happy, Eric. And Luke is going to be over the moon to have you so close. You know he hero worships you.”
“Well, that might change.”
“Doubtful.”
“Well, I’ve gotta run- I’ll email you any potential places I find.”
We discussed time frames a bit more then I sign off.
I still have ten minutes online time, so I decide to browse stateside news. In amid presidential debate articles and football stats for week two, there she is - Ryan.
The headline reads, SEAHAWKS QB DATING PLAYBOY CENTERFOLD.
Beneath a picture of them exiting a nightclub together.
My gut clenches. I hover over the link in turmoil. No denying it, I have been holding a torch for Ryan since that NIGHT. In the picture she’s wearing a miniskirt and leather jacket; Her hair still blonde. I’m starting to dislike this blonde version of my fierce Ryan. Her legs are fucking ten miles high and I remember what it feels like to have them wrapped around my waist.
I click the damn link to bring up the full article.
Seahawks’ quarterback, Alex Devereaux, is under fire for being “distracted” in last week’s game. Critics are blaming his new love interest, Playboy model and ex-navy enlisted, E. Ryan. The two have been spotted at Flame, Seattle’s newest five-star restaurant, and downtown nightclub, The Penthouse.
That was it.
I considered doing another search for more information. Close my laptop instead. Ignoring the burn in my gut. Did you really think you’d get the girl this time, Broussard?
I guess I hadn’t admitted defeat yet.
Butter’s comes into the comm room. “Yo! Chief!”
I gave him a grunt back.
“Who pissed in your cheerios?”
I turn to him fully, contemplating. He and Ryan got along and might still be in contact.
“You ever hear from Ryan, Butters?”
“Every now and then, why? What’s up?”
Reluctant to share anything with him, I just give a shrug and say, “Nothing really, just saw where she was dating some NFL dude.”
He gives a half smirk at me, “Oh yea, Devereaux. We aren’t known to giggle over gossip and wine, but she did tell me she is in Seattle for a bit.”
“Huh.”
“You want me to pass her a note in study class, Chief?”
“Shut the fuck up, Butters.”
I slam out the door, not giving him any more ammunition.
37
Time with Devereaux is relaxing in that I don’t have to do a lot of guessing about what he is thinking. He just comes out and says it; A nice change from the last man I was interested in. I’ve gone to calling him “the last man” in my head as a way to try to expunge all these feelings from my heart.
Our Fall themed breakfast turned into dinner and a PR appearance. Since I was already in town for the weekend, I stayed for his Sunday game, watching from the VIP booth making small talk with a few of the other player’s wives. It felt forced though. Like I was just a puppet making all the right small talk with them when deep down I felt no connection. Their lives seem to be all roses and Coach bags. My life has been bullets and Kevlar. After the game, Alex takes me to another diner for an epic post-game breakfast, but my heart isn’t in it.
“Listen, Ryan. I like you a lot.” He says while pouring syrup over his pecan waffle. He sets the syrup container down and smiles affectionately at me. Damn.
I’ve managed not to really read anything deep into these few days, just kinda floating from one thing to another, observing but not really feeling. It has been a joy just to turn off the question of “what’s next?” And now, when I feel something-the wrong thing I think to myself-he wants to complicate it.
“I like you too, Devereaux,” I choke around my waffle bite.
“So, I gotta know – would you want to continue to date me? See where this takes us?”
I nearly spit up the coffee I just took a sip of.
Before I can form a reply- my phone dings with an incoming message.
I don’t look at it. I just pick up my fork and look Devereaux in the eyes.
“Alex,” I began, “I’m not good enough for you.” I smile to soften the blow.
He looks perplexed.
“What do you mean?”
“It's just that…” I sigh and look out the diner window.
“Since I’ve been back I’m not whole. I’m just a shell. I don’t think I can be the star quarterback’s girlfriend.”
I put my hands up in defeat. I hate admitting that. I hate where this whole conversation is going- down the shitter.
Alex is looking intently at me, but I can hardly stand to look back at him.
“It’s ok, Ryan. You are the most courageous woman I know, and I think that’s why I am willing to wait till your ready.”
I smile at his compliment. But hate that he’s still got the wrong idea.
“Don’t wait on me, Alex.” I tell him. “Don’t wait to live your life to the fullest. To reach out there and grab love where you can find it. Don’t ever wait. Cause life is so fucking short, and…”
I want to go on, but I get a little choked up thinking about T-Rex and David, My mom’s face even swims into my vision for a minute, how short their lives were.
Shit. I push half my waffle back and forth on my plate not really looking at it.
I put down my fork no longer hungry.
Looking out into the downtown Seattle night, the people bustling about.
“Come on, Ryan. Let’s get out of here.”
He pushes out of the booth and drops some money on the table. He puts his arm around my shoulders as we walk to his car. It’s nice, but I’m too torn up inside and can’t form any words to reassure him that I’m ok.
He takes me back to the hotel and leaves the car running when he comes around to open the door for me.
We both know I’m flying back to San Diego tomorrow. He engulfs me in a hug and doesn’t let go.
I start to shiver. He finally pulls back and rubs my arms up and down.
“I’m not going to say goodbye, cause I know we’ll see each other again, Ryan.”
I give him a smile, but it’s half-hearted now that melancholy has settled over me like a wet blanket.
“Thanks, Devereaux.”
He kisses my fo
rehead. I wave to him there from the front of the hotel.
My time out in Seattle provides no better answers on moving on with life. In fact I almost feel worse.
My phone buzzes when I am in the elevator. I absentmindedly pull it from my bag.
A call from a Florida number. This time of night, I feel like it’s probably not a spam call. I answer it.
“Hello?”
“Fuckin’ A, it is the beautiful, awesome Ryan…Watcha doing?”
It’s Reed. And he sounds a little shit-faced. This cheers me up a bit. It is three AM east coast time.
“I’m being a responsible adult and going to bed? What about you?”
Odd that he wants to chit-chat, but I figure I must be the drunk dial.
“Are you going to bed alone?” He strings out the last word and I hear some hooting in the background.
I ignore his question while I open up the hotel door.
“Who are you with, Reed?”
“Letttts see. There’s Meaty and, Hanzo, and who the FUCK are You? Oh! That’s Broussard. He’s driving. I forgot.”
All this is slurred, but my stomach knots up when he says Broussard.
“What’s up Reed?”
Might as well cut to the chase on this call.
“You NeVer AnSweRed my text!”
“Oh. I didn’t get a text. What did it say?”
“I was inviting you to my bachelor party and wedding. You gotta come cause Jess says so, and I say so, and Butters says so, and Meaty says so…”
He giggles.
“Well congratulations, Reed. “
“Ahh. Thank you…so you’ll be there?”
“Umm. When is it?”
“When is it,” he pauses and I can tell he’s moved his mouth away from the phone when he says, “Meaty, when is it?”
I hear some mumbling in the background.
“Oh! Yea. It’s in three weeks. In FLO-REE-DA.”
I laugh at his pronunciation. I miss these guys so much. It punches me in the gut. I suddenly want more then anything to just hang out with them.
“Yea, I might be able to make that. You gonna send me all the info?”
“Jess’ll do it, now that I got your number.”
Broussard
We had, luckily enough, shipped back a little early and are taking advantage with a little celebratory night out.
We are in the bar doing shots when Reed asks Butters about Ryan.
“You got her number, Butters? I’m going to text her and invite her to the wedding.”
“Yea, Yea, let’s see.”
He’s scrolling through his phone, and I nonchalantly take a sip of my drink acting for all the world like I could give two shits about what they are talking about.
“Yea, girl hooked a brother up! Gotta have her at the wedding,” Reed continues.
“And what did Jess say when she found out you didn’t know a Louboutin from a Chanel?” Says Meaty.
Reed answers, “Ha! Shows what ya’ll know about women, I came clean with her the next date when she asked me about her Gucci or some shit, and she thought it was cute that I asked another woman’s advice.”
Butters breaks in with, “I don’t know shit about designer crap or women, what about you, chief?”
“Nope.”
Butters continues the conversation, “You think Ryan’ll bring that QB with her?”
Meaty: “Shit man, I don’t know! What you think Chief? Besides Reed and T- you probably know her best.”
I just grunt into my soda.
“You know, I heard something interesting from Peanut,” Butters says.
We are all silent and my gut clenches at the thought of what he is going to say next.
“When Ryan showed up at T’s funeral, she was wearing her civvies. Nice ones too, he says- really showed off her figure.”
“And your point?” I bark at him.
He looks at me with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Just that he also noticed the two of you left in the same cab together.”
I don’t acknowledge the whoops that go around the table, just get up and get the next round.
It’s on the way home that they really start ribbing me.
“Imma call her right now.” This from Reed.
I notice he’s pulling his cell phone from his pocket and it takes all my willpower not to reach across to the passenger side and knock it out of his hands.
Meaty helps me out though with a protest from the backseat, “Don’t fucking DRUNK dial a woman- you pussy!”
“She’s not my woman…and I am mildly inebriated.” Excepted mildly inebriated comes out like “Midly inabriatated.”
He’s got the phone up to his ear, and I just grip the steering wheel harder in anticipation.
A hush has fallen over the guys as they strain to hear the conversation.
It’s three AM. No way she’ll pick up.
She fucking picks up. And I am straining to hear every word of her side of the conversation.
She laughs at Reed’s greeting.
Pauses at his question about bed. Doesn’t answer. Shit. She’s not alone. The sting burns in my gut. I’m so mad I tune out nearly the rest of the conversation she’s having with Reed.
“Jess’ll do it now that I got your number.” Reed finishes.
I don’t hear what else she says, but he puts his phone down and turns to me with a sly grin.
“Just call me cupid.”
The rest of the guys explode into laughter. I shake my head.
38
Between starting a new job as a civilian contractor at Pensacola Air Force Base running top level security initiatives and buying a partially constructed house and working to make it habitable, plus spending as much time as possible with Luke, the next three weeks pass rather quickly for me.
It’s Friday night and I’m sitting on the deck of the popular beachside bar, Riptides, with Meaty and Butters waiting for Reed’s groom duties to finish up. The rehearsal dinner ended an hour ago, but you’d think the bride knew what we had planned and kept making up things to keep Reed occupied and throw a kink in our plans. Good thing I’m the best man though. I’ve taken into account such delays.
I sip my almost empty beer.
Check my phone and look over towards the door where Reed should be strolling through any minute.
Meaty asks, “So, Broussard, you gonna sell your house once you get it all tuned up?”
Our conversation for the past thirty minutes has been about the construction I have been doing on my new digs.
“I don’t know. I could list it for quite a bit, but I’m not sure the market’s quite peaked.”
“Yea, I wouldn’t hate retiring here in Pensacola. The beach has some mighty fine views.”
I chuckle. I know what views it’s referring to, women in bikinis. In walks Reed with a leggy blonde on his arm.
It takes me a minute to recognize who that leggy blonde is. Ryan.
They saunter over to us.
“Ready to get this party started gentleman?” Reed asks.
“Hell yea!” Meaty and Butters respond, rising from our table and giving Ryan hugs in hello.
I stand and drop some money on the table to pay for our drinks.
Reed points over his shoulder and rubs his palms together, “Car is out front, let’s ride, ladies! No offense, Ryan.”
She puts her hands out and says, “None taken,” with a smile.
My three comrades in arms are practically already to the door, leaving Ryan and I to bring up the rear. Her ass is to die for in a pair of painted on jeans. Her shoulders exposed and tan in a fancy red-colored tank top with a hundred sexy crisscross ties in the back. I’ll never understand women's’ clothes, but these ties are as sexy as hell.
I catch up with her at the door, she’s just as tall as me in her heels. I push past her and hold the door open.
“Hi, Broussard.” she smiles at me while stepping through.
“Hi, yourself.”
I smile back at her.
We pile into the waiting SUV, and I sit next to Ryan. Her top is low cut, and I think god silently for the breasts he gave this woman.
Ryan
Sure, I know Broussard is checking me out. I can feel his eyes on my cleavage. That is the whole point of consulting my sisters for their fashion advice for this little trip. I had decided that I could do with one or two more nights of Broussard in my bed. Or the hotel’s bed. So, the fashion advice to catch a man was
bachelor party: feisty minx. wedding: fresh innocent. They assured me, no man can resist such a combo.
We stop and pick up Reed’s brother, Aiden, with Reed’s other two soon-to-be brothers-in-law and head to a scotch and cigars bar at a trendy little place downtown. Reed’s brother is the only one to protest my female presence when he climbs in the SUV.
“What the hell? What’s this chick doing here?”
Reed slaps his kid brother in the back of the head.
“She’s one of my very good friends, here to help me celebrate my impending doom. So don’t be a dick.”
“Well, hotness,” He turns to me, “You got a name?”
“Yea, kid,” I tell him, “It’s Ryan.”
He gives me a lopsided grin that tells me he has had a little pre-party action and isn’t affected by my “kid” label.
“Alllllright, let’s Ride!” Reed whoops.
At the bar, I’ve started my second glass of scotch and water, and doused a half-smoked cigar out in the ashtray when Reed turns the conversation to me.
“So, Ryan. What have you been up to since the Playboy shoot?”
His kid brother interrupts before I can answer, “Wait, Playboy shoot?”
Meaty chimes in, “Yeah, kid. You’re looking at the only SEAL ever to be a centerfold.” He points his cigar at me with a wink.
“Ha. It was two pages in the very back, Meaty. I mostly did it to get the CIA recruiters off my back.”
Broussard is sitting in one of the club chairs directly across from me, and the look he gives me. It’s annoyed disapproval all over again. I just can’t seem to ever get it right with this man.
“Well, it was a mighty fine spread,” Butters compliments with a raised glass.
The Distance Between Dreams Page 14